


Come What May

by phoenixflight



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Dry Orgasm, F/M, Femdom, Forced Orgasm, Involuntary orgasm, Kinda, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Premature Ejaculation, cursed to orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:41:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24013786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixflight/pseuds/phoenixflight
Summary: In which Ransom has a problem where hearing a certain word makes him come, and Marta finds out.
Relationships: Marta Cabrera/Ransom Drysdale
Comments: 51
Kudos: 540





	Come What May

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liesmyth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmyth/gifts).



> This is a gift for my dear friend elle who is having a crappy week and deserves nothing but good things, based on a prompt for Smut4Smut (but obvi very belated!) Enjoy darling :)

Marta hadn’t meant to become the Thrombey’s secret keeper, but Harlan was a lonely old man and needed someone to talk to. She knew all about Richard’s cheating, Walt’s incompetence, Joni’s double dipping, and Ransom’s little problem. 

“It’s an involuntary neurological response,” Harlan had said, over coffee one dreary winter afternoon. “Poor boy, it’s been really quite a trial for him. Developed in adolescence and he never mastered it. Like your…” he mimed vomiting. “Unfortunate.” 

“Psycho-physiological hyper-responsiveness.” 

“Yes, precisely.” 

“It does sound embarrassing,” she agreed. Ransom kept mostly to himself, but from what she’d seen of him he was as entitled and unpleasant as the rest of the family, although admittedly easy to look at. Marta didn’t feel particularly sympathetic, even given his condition. 

She didn’t think any more about it until the family gathered for Easter. Fran had prepared an enormous brunch, laid out in the dining hall, and Marta had been sent to fetch Ransom, who was lingering alone out on the balcony, avoiding the others. 

When she stepped outside, he turned toward her, eyebrows raised. 

“Lunch is ready,” she said, gesturing back toward the house. “Come eat.”

His eyes widened, and then his face went red and scrunched as he clutched the stone rail behind him, knees buckling a little. Marta gaped at him as he shivered and panted. “Are you alright?” she asked, alarmed, and then realized belatedly what had happened. 

He looked up at her, glassy-eyed and defiant, mouth twisting with anger. “Fine. Go away.” 

“The trigger word is come?” she said, and then clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, shit.” 

He groaned, throwing his head back as his hips bucked. The tendons in his neck stood out, fair skin flushed all the way down to the collar of his sweater. His hair was mussed, mouth open. 

Her eyes dropped involuntarily to his crotch. There was a dark stain seeping through the fabric of his slacks, over the bulge of his cock. It was shockingly, obscenely arousing. Marta gulped. “Sorry. I’m sorry!” 

Ransom blinked, and glared at her, staggering upright. It was intriguing to see his powerful, well-built body uncoordinated with pleasure. He looked furious. 

“Right. I’ll… go,” Marta mumbled, spinning and darting back into the house. Shutting the patio door behind her, she leaned against it and realized that the pit of her stomach was pleasantly warm and the crotch of her panties was damp. 

Understandably, Ransom avoided her for the rest of the weekend. It wasn’t until after the 4th of July party where she ended up puking in the grass trying to play a charades game, that she encountered him again. 

Lunch was over, Harlan was taking his afternoon nap, and Marta was in his study tidying up the pieces of the Go board when the stairs creaked. She turned to see Ransom leaning in the doorway. 

“Feeling better?” he asked, tone neutral. 

“Yes, thank you.” His presence made her shoulders tighten - wariness and prurient interest. 

He wandered over to the couch and sprawled down on it, tucking his hands behind his head. His polo shirt stretched obscenely across his chest. “So, you can’t lie. That’s a dangerous thing to know about someone.” 

“Only if you have secrets to keep,” she said, and then grimaced at herself for baiting him. Something about Ransom made her obstinate and unwise. 

He raised his eyebrows. “Do you? Have secrets to keep?” 

“Yes,” she admitted, because she’d already spent half an hour puking today. 

“Like what?” he asked. 

Marta narrowed her eyes at him, wondering if he thought he was clever. Everyone tried that when they found out about her condition. “Like your little problem, for one.” 

He barked a laugh. “Touche.” 

“I keep plenty of secrets for this family, so if you think you can push me around or take advantage of me because of my condition, just remember,” she said with deliberate slowness, “that all... I have to do is... tell you... to…” She stopped. The smirk had dropped off his face and his relaxed posture had turned tense although he hadn’t moved at all. But he didn’t look angry; his lips were slightly parted, cheeks pink. Marta blinked. “Unless… do you want me to?” 

He bared his teeth, a parody of a smile. “You think I want to be like this?” 

“No.” She glanced at his khakis, at the unmistakable bulge of his cock. “But it looks like maybe you enjoy it anyway,” she said frankly

They stared at one another for a long moment, and then Ransom stretched, spreading his legs a little, calling her bluff. “Out of the two of us, I think I got the sweeter deal, don’t you?” he drawled. 

Marta licked her lips. “Yours is more fun. How many times in a day do you… get off?” 

He shifted his hips. “Depends. I don’t spend much time around people.” 

“But when you do? People say that word a lot.” 

“Yeah.” His breathing was fast and shallow, his chest heaving with it. 

“At least I can choose whether or not to lie. But you, you’re helpless every time someone opens their mouth.” A ruddy flush brightened his cheeks. “I’m amazed you don’t walk around hard all the time just waiting for it.” 

“You’re teasing.” Marta could see his nipples through the cotton of his shirt, his hard-on tenting up his pants. 

“A little.” 

“Come on, Marta,” he growled. 

“It doesn’t work when you say it?” 

He shook his head. “Would I be here if it did?” 

Marta shrugged. “You can still get yourself off the normal way, right? If you need it so badly, you can touch yourself.” 

Ransom didn’t move. His eyes were dark, pupils blown. 

“Oh, you want to wait? Is it better this way? Letting me be in control? Knowing I could say it at any time and make you… orgasm?” He let out an unsteady breath, glaring at her. His hand flexed on his thigh. “Did you think I was going to say something else?” Marta’s own heart was pounding, her panties getting wet. She was standing in Harlan’s study in broad daylight feeling like she was burning up and coming apart at the edges - alight and insane. She popped the button on her jeans, undoing the zip and slipping her fingers down to rub her clit.

Ransom reached for his own belt, but Marta said, “Don’t. I want to see you come in your pants again.” 

His eyes widened in shock, then he grunted and curled forward, a dark stain appearing on his khakis. Marta swore, her own cunt clenching sympathetically, the tips of her fingers already slick where she was touching herself. “Again,” she ordered. “Come for me.” 

He shuddered, head tipped back. His mouth was wet and pink, his cheeks red. Marta bit her lip watching his cock twitch beneath the soaked fabric. “Now you can take your pants off if you want,” she said, surprised at how steady her own voice was. 

“Fuck you,” he groaned, shoving his pants and boxers down. His cock was thick and flushed, still half-hard, glistening with come. He was unfairly gorgeous everywhere, for someone so personally unpleasant. Marta swallowed hard. They were really doing this - she was in deep water with the current tugging at her, and she didn’t want to fight against it. 

She shimmied her jeans down her hips, stepping out of them, and peeled off her soaked panties. Watching her, Ransom cupped his hand over his cock and then pulled it away with a hiss. 

“Sensitive?”

“Sadist,” he muttered. 

“I didn’t hear that. Come again?” He writhed and swore, hips bucking. His dick jerked and drooled another strand of pearly come. 

She was dripping wet herself, clit throbbing. She could feel the tops of her thighs sliding slick together every time she moved. “You need a break?” 

He rolled his head toward her, eyes unfocused. His chest was heaving hugely. Reaching out, she petted his sweat-damp hair back from his forehead. “Here. You can do something else for a while.” Feeling drunk on her own daring, she put one knee beside his shoulder and swung the other leg over his face, bracing herself against the back of the couch. He made a small sound and she looked down at him. His mouth was open, pink tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Be good.” He tipped his chin up, hungry, and she felt a hot shudder course through her. 

Winding her fingers in his hair she held on as he licked her. His hands were huge on her thighs, his tongue clumsy and imprecise after three orgasms. Impatient, Marta ground down against his chin, finding her own rhythm rocking against his face. His five o’clock shadow was just rough enough to send tiny shocks through her on every stroke. Marta tugged at his hair and he groaned. His eyes were closed, that smirking, insolent mouth occupied, and the sense of power that rolled through Marta was indistinguishable from arousal. She gasped, belly clenching. 

“Gonna come,” she gasped, and Ransom made a choking sound, vibrating through her cunt. She felt his body buck under her, and clutched his head tighter between her thighs as she rode out her own orgasm. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop, god.” He was useless by now, just mouthing softly at the folds of her cunt, tongue slipping randomly over her clit, drawing out the aftershocks. 

Finally she sat back. His chin and cheeks were gleaming wet, his eyes glassy, hair standing up in tufts where she had pulled it. His cock was fully soft now, sticky and thick against his thigh. Come was smeared on his belly and drying on his pants. The heavy, warm satisfaction of orgasm weighed down her limbs as she stood, still leaning on the couch for support, looking down at Ransom. Insidious and tempting was the realization that she could keep going. Short of gagging her, there was no way for him to make her stop. 

“This wasn’t what I expected today when I came to work,” she said. 

Ransom flinched and whimpered, cock twitching against his leg. A tiny dribble of clear fluid leaked out. Marta felt heat begin to pool in her belly again, but the afternoon was dragging on and Harlan would wake up from his nap soon. 

She bent and pulled her panties back on, the soaked fabric cold against her skin, making her shiver. Ransom watched her through slitted eyes, chest still heaving. Leaning on Harlan’s desk, she pulled her pants on one leg at a time. “You should get cleaned up. I’ll see you next time you…” He raised one finger in warning. “Next time you  _ visit,”  _ she finished.

He huffed out a breath, half exhausted laughter, half concession, and Marta smiled all the way down the stairs.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love!


End file.
